


Lift

by NotTasha



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTasha/pseuds/NotTasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheppard is up late when he hears McKay on the radio, needing help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lift

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: PG  
> SEASON: Season 5  
> MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay and Sheppard  
> DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel.   
> SUMMARY: Sheppard is up late when he hears McKay on the radio, needing help.   
> NOTE: This story was in response to the 2009 SGA Genficathon: prompts Friendship and "A Cry for Help"   
> DATE: Originally posted June 12, 2009

PART 1: UP AT NIGHT

It was late. The nightshift roamed, but for the most part, Atlantis slept. Sheppard felt the quiet of the place, the sleepy silence that infiltrated nearly every room but his own.

He was tired. His team had just come off another god-awful mission, and he really needed the rest. He needed to clear his mind and shake off that mess. His head felt weighted. His eyes were scratchy. His limbs ached from long days of movement and work. Still, sleep wouldn't find him.

So, he sat up in bed and tried to read "Anna Karenina". "War and Peace" had brought him through his first year in Atlantis, so he had a strange fondness for Tolstoy, but he turned the pages without really reading them. 

His mind tumbled as his radio kept him company. He listened to the night shift making their regular checks -- scientists calling in progress on experiments or voicing requests to the control room, marines announcing their locations on patrol. Everyone sounded bored.

It was comforting, in a way. Everything was normal. Everything was peaceful. The broadcast offered little entertainment.

Sheppard kept trying to read, kept trying to sleep or simply relax.

A marine, a man with the unlikely name of Sgt. Uldis Woodrow, piped up on the radio, "Hey, does anyone ever wonder why 'fridge' is spelled with a D in it, but if you spell 'refrigerator', there's no D?"

Another voice responded with an unintelligent sounding, "Huh?"

Uldis went on, "I was just stopping by the mess hall and someone put a sign on the cooler where we keep our leftovers. It says that they're going to clean out the fridge in the morning, and it got me wondering. Why the D in 'fridge'? We don't really pronounce it. It makes no sense!"

Sheppard touched his mic. "Woodrow…"

The tone of the marine's voice changed considerably as he responded, "Yes, sir!"

"Aren't you supposed to be on Gate duty?" Sheppard chided.

"Yes, sir," Uldis replied sharply. "I'm sorry, sir. Sgt. Martin is there already, and I just stopped by to pick up the rest of my sandwich from lunch -- a little something to keep me alert. It won't happen again."

Sheppard yawned a little, and told him, "I'll count on that."

There was quiet for a moment before a new voice was heard. "Sheppard? You're awake?"

John shook his head. "Unless I'm talking in my sleep, McKay… yes, I'm awake."

"Oh. Do you think you can switch to a private channel for a minute?" Rodney asked nonchalantly, but there was something tingeing his request – not an 'urgency' really, but some sense of need. The man was terrible at hiding anything.

"Yeah, switching," Sheppard said, jumping to the private channel he usually used, then after a pause, asked, "What's up?"

"Ah, you think you can come to the north pier for a moment?"

"North pier?" Sheppard echoed as he sat up fully, using a bookmark to hold his place. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Shouldn't you, too?" McKay bit back.

Sheppard smiled slightly as he settled the book on his bedside table. "I'm very comfortable in my room, on my bed."

"Fully dressed," McKay surmised.

Sheppard didn't admit it. "I ordered some downtime for the team," he stated as he pulled on his boots. "You're supposed to be relaxing."

"Well," McKay responded. "I just wanted to … do something and…" There was a weary sigh. "Can you just come out here?"

"I'll have to think about it," Sheppard told him as he stood and immediately left the room – the door snicking shut behind him.

"It'll only take a minute." A desperate whine had crept into Rodney's voice.

Sheppard kept moving. "You couldn't call for someone who's on duty?"

There was another sigh, and then a quiet, "I just need a little help. I didn't want… I didn't want to make a big deal about it."

"Fine, okay," Sheppard said, sounding annoyed as he moved along the corridor. "I'm coming." His feet beat a quick cadence as he stalked toward the transporter. There seemed no reason to rush, but Sheppard found himself moving quickly anyway. Finally! Something to do.

"North pier?" Sheppard repeated.

"Tower 17," Rodney told him. "At the top."

"Really?" Sheppard paused. "You got someone there with you?"

"No!" McKay snapped. "If someone was here, I wouldn't need the help, would I? So, could you, you know, help?"

"What the heck," Sheppard replied as he stepped toward the transporter. "Might as well."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Tower 17 on the north pier had been an enigma -- a big boring enigma. It was the tallest tower on that arm of Atlantis, a narrow tall spire with a room at the top, a large bay at the bottom and nothing in-between.

The tower was hollow – with just a central support column at its heart. It was a rather pointless structure. The little room at the top, reachable only by transporter, had nothing interesting in it. Just controls that would open up the windows that wrapped around the entire space. It had an awe inspiring panoramic view.

People went to Tower 17 for two reasons – for private make-out sessions with a 'significant other', or to be totally alone, surrounded by the openness of the high perch.

What the hell was McKay doing up there alone?

Sheppard poked the transporter's control and arrived almost instantly at the lonely location.

He stepped out, noting that the windows were closed. Then, he saw McKay at the center of the room, and he smirked.

The scientist was stuck, arm-deep inside the main column of the room. He looked aggravated, aggrieved, anxious and annoyed as he poked at the column's smooth side.

Sheppard grinned further. "So," he drawled, "You got yourself in a fix?"

"Oh, thank God!" McKay uttered as he tried to face Sheppard.

"Hand stuck in the cookie jar?" Sheppard continued. "You know, if you just let go of the 'cookie', you might be able to get out of there."

"Yeah, hadn't thought of that," McKay grumbled. "Can you get me out of here?"

"I don't know," Sheppard commented. "Maybe it's better this way. You look relatively comfortable, and this will keep you out of trouble. I won't have to worry about you wandering off on away missions."

Rodney winced at those words and ducked his head as he muttered, "Can you give me a hand?"

Feeling a little sorry for his remark, Sheppard stepped forward, saying, "Looks like you could use one." He gestured to McKay's trapped arm.

"Hardy har har. You're as funny as a heart attack. Just… get me loose." He grimaced and writhed a little, trying to free himself, but was obviously getting nowhere.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" Sheppard asked as he tried to get a good view of how McKay was trapped.

"Yes, I meant to do this," McKay snipped. "I was just trying to access the control crystal to this system when my jacket got hung up on something. I can't get my other hand in to free it."

"Did you ever think about taking your jacket off?" Sheppard asked, looking at him askance.

McKay shot him the stink eye. "The zipper is jammed!" he grumbled. "See?" and he pulled violently at the zipper with his one free hand, getting nowhere. 

"Not your regulation jacket." Sheppard sighed, noting the orange fleece monstrosity. He leaned closer to see the zipper. "Are you wearing a sweater?" Sheppard asked, seeing a mess of blue yarn coming through the closure.

"Yes," McKay muttered. "I was going to open up the windows when I got here. It gets cold up here at night, you know, when the windows are open. I came prepared." And he patted his chest a little proudly. But the smugness changed to chagrin. "I just got derailed a little when I noticed the panel on this column."

"Figures," Sheppard responded. "You got yourself stuck really good."

"I know," Rodney sighed. "I think I got the cloth of the jacket sleeve caught up on something. I just made it worse with trying to get out."

Sheppard gave up on the jacket. It was zipped to the top, tight to his neck. Even if he pulled Rodney free hand out of the sleeve, that jacket wouldn't come over his head easily. John tried to work a hand in alongside Rodney's arm, but the space was tight, the edges a little too sharp to allow much movement. Good thing McKay's jacket was thick, otherwise he'd be complaining about that, too.

"And you know, this isn't exactly comfortable," McKay griped.

"You're fine," Sheppard told him as he continued to examine the situation. "You have any tools with you?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, and then pointed with his free hand. "My pack is over there," he said. "I couldn't reach it… otherwise…I would have been able to do something."

"Yeah, I know," Sheppard responded.

"I could probably eventually get out on my own, but…since you were up."

"Yeah," Sheppard stated and stepped away to pick up the pack. It was resting near the large circular design on the floor, and he frowned a little, wondering if the center of the room had always been slightly sunken from the rest of the room.

"That's a tripping hazard," Sheppard muttered as he returned to McKay with the pack.

"What?" McKay called, twisting around to see him.

"What do you have in here we can use?" Sheppard asked, as he started to go through the pack. "Do you have a screwdriver or some tin snips? A crowbar? Ah, what's this? Box cutter! You have a box cutter?"

McKay shrugged. "They always come in handy." He watched as Sheppard pulled it from its case. "Hey! What are you planning to do with that?"

"Just going to cut the sleeve of your jacket. It'll be the quickest way to get you out of this."

Rodney looked as if he wanted to protest, but instead, he let out a breath of resignation. "Fine. Why not. The coat's probably ruined anyway." He touched the jammed zipper and said, "It will never be the same after this, right?"

"Right," Sheppard responded as he grabbed as much slack as he could in the shoulder of the jacket and began hacking at it.

"Just careful that you don't… cut me or anything," McKay told him, squinting his eyes shut and turning his head as far as he could from the scene of the crime. "I bleed easily."

"Right," Sheppard responded as he worked.

"I was attacked by green-head flies once," McKay went on. "Everyone else in the party got away with little harmless bites. Me? I bled from everyone last one of those nips. I hate green-head flies!"

Sheppard kept cutting through the fleece jacket, and probably part of the sweater beneath it. When he tried to get under McKay's arm, he found the area just too tight to maneuver in. "Can you stand up a little taller so I can get under your pit?" he asked.

"I'm standing as tall as I can," McKay told him.

Sheppard stepped back slightly and frowned. When he'd entered the room, Rodney had been standing with his arm out at a reasonable angle. But now, he was stretching.

What the hell?

"Is the pillar getting taller, or are you getting shorter?" Sheppard questioned.

Rodney said nothing immediately -- he just turned his head to glance around the room. Then, a terrified look came over him. "This isn't good," he said under his breath.

Sheppard turned, and his eyes fixed on that little ledge where the pack had been sitting. It wasn't just a slight dip anymore. There was at least a six-inch difference in the levels of the floors.

"We're sinking." McKay hissed. "Oh God, we're sinking!"

Oh, for the love of…

They were sinking, but the damn hole in the column was not. McKay would be lifted off the floor if he didn't hurry. Sheppard muscled himself under McKay, forcing him up an inch or so as he kept cutting at the sleeve. The floor continued to ease downward.

McKay struggled, getting to his tiptoes and finding a handhold to pull himself up. "Get me loose!" he demanded. "The edges on this hole are sharp! OW! Oh God, this is going to be bad!"

Sheppard kept hacking. Then there was a whine, a high-pitched sound of metal straining.

Not good.

"Here we go!" John shouted and grabbed hold of the jacket at McKay's neck. He yanked just as the floor dropped out from under them.

 

PART 2: FREE FALL 

The wall streaked away around them. Metal shrieked. Falling. They were falling!

Sheppard looked quickly, finding McKay on his side, turned away, shouting, and clutching at his shoulder. Sheppard could only see Rodney's broad back.

He hadn't been fast enough! He hadn't been able to free his friend in time, and the arm had been sheared right off.

Oh God, oh God no!

The screeching of metal intensified. The floor shuddered violently, wobbling and swaying as it tried to slow down.

They were falling falling falling.

McKay yelled as he twisted on the floor. Sheppard rolled onto his stomach, fighting to move, desperate to reach Rodney.

John's heart flip-flopped from the drop and the possibilities.

No blood, Sheppard thought anxiously as he watched McKay. There'd be fountains of blood if they'd just ripped off Rodney's arm.

McKay rolled onto his back and drew the intact arm to his chest. He met Sheppard's gaze with wide eyes. Wind whipped past them. Fear was quickly replaced with determination as Rodney turned toward the central pillar.

The column blurred. The platform shot downward, wobbling, bucking, screeching and shedding sparks.

They weren't exactly plummeting, but it was pretty darn close. Some sort of mechanical system was trying to slow them – but they weren't stopping.

Bad. This was bad.

"Get us stopped!" Sheppard shouted as McKay rolled over and crawled across the falling platform.

Rodney shot Sheppard a furious look. "What do you think I'm trying to do?" he yelled as kept moving. Sheppard shuffled his way around, meeting up with McKay just as the scientist grasped for a control panel that sat on a post, nearly flush with the column.

They had to stop this decent. Stop! Sheppard thought, trying to activate a mental component. Stop! Stop, you stupid son of a bitch falling floor! Stop!

Groping, McKay touched a control. Lights flashed, and then a keening wail sounded all around them. Sheppard reached for his ears, trying to blot out the sound as the braking system was strained to its limits. Then, with a huge thump, the platform stopped.

McKay was thrown back to the ground, and Sheppard barely managed to remain raised on his knees.

Stopped.

For a second or two, they said nothing, listening as the platform groaned, and inched downward a little further. Then, silence. They sat in the glow that emanated from the floor.

The light, coming from below, made Rodney look like a clichéd movie villain. A line of blood ran down from his nose where he'd smacked it on the floor.

"You okay?" Sheppard asked.

McKay was panting, gasping for breath as his eyes found Sheppard's. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm not dead," Sheppard responded.

"Yeah," McKay replied as his wide eyes scanned the area. "What the hell? What the hell was that?" He shouted the words as if he wanted to be furious with some specific person. Certainly, someone was at fault. He rubbed at his nose with his remaining jacket sleeve, and looked disgusted to see the blood. Reminded of his near 'disarming', he jerked his attention to the other arm, finding it bare, but otherwise entire. Even the sweater had been removed, probably more torn away then cut. "I could have lost an arm!" he shouted.

"I know," Sheppard said, as he carefully stood.

"Or have been left dangling." McKay looked upward, "God, I could be hanging up there by one arm." He looked tortured at the thought of it.

"Is this platform okay now?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney rubbed his arm dolefully, his eyes fixed on some distant spot above their heads. "That would hurt like a son of a bitch." He shook his head, looking miserable. "Bet the sides of that hole would have sawn right through my armpit – inch by excruciating inch – cutting right through my shoulder socket eventually. Then, I'd just fall."

Sheppard gave the platform a substantial stomp.

McKay's gaze shot toward him. "Knock it off! Are you trying to kill us?"

"Wanted to make sure it was safe."

"That really is not the way!" McKay fumed. "How can you even think 'safe'? Didn't we just plunge about fifty stories? It's a miracle that we're not both moist splatters at the bottom of the tower!" He daubed at his nose with his one sleeve, and then pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding. He winced as he pressed. "Bet they wouldn't even be able to tell us apart."

"Yeah, they would," Sheppard told him. "You have that horrible orange jacket. They all know I'd never wear something like that." He looked upward. Far above, a circle of light centered over them. He tried to calculate how far they'd fallen.

Fifty stories? Probably not – but it was a good long way.

McKay moved judiciously, first to his hands and knees, then, shakily, he made his way to one knee before he found the courage to stand entirely. "That sucked!" he uttered.

"Yeah," Sheppard remarked.

McKay leaned over the control panel. He poked a few controls and then said, "It should be good now. Emergency brakes are fully engaged." He shook his head as he gazed at the platform beneath them. "This must have been some sort of lift."

"More like a 'fall'," Sheppard quipped, getting a groan from McKay. "What was it used for? There's nothing at the top of this tower worth the trouble. Just big windows and lots of sea air."

McKay nodded. "Yeah, I think I know the reason for that." He rubbed his shoulder. "I bet I tore my rotator cuff. I hear that it takes months to recover from something like that." With a disconcerted look he cradled the arm in the other. "I can't be out of commission for that long."

"Why did the Ancients build a big stupid elevator carnival ride without decent brakes?" John tried another question.

"It wasn't supposed to work like that. Someone must have disengaged the safety systems."

"Yeah, someone messing with the control crystal maybe?" Sheppard reminded.

McKay gave him a haughty look. "That is a strong possibility," he stated, lifting his chin and making the comment sound like an accusation instead of an admission.

"Can you get the elevator to go up?"

"Not on your life," McKay replied, looking anxiously at the control panel. He held one hand over it, as if considering touching something else. "With some work, yes, it would work again. But, I think we're better off keeping this platform right where it is for now."

Sheppard nodded, and then touched his radio. "Sgt. Woodrow," he called. "Have you made it back from the cafeteria yet?"

There was a squawk of interference and then a fuzzy response, "Colonel? Yes, sir. I am at my post." A slight pause, and then, "Where are you? Your transmission is garbled."

"We're going to need some help. Dr. McKay and I have managed to get ourselves stuck in the elevator in Tower 17," Sheppard responded.

"What? It's hard to hear you, sir. Did you say you were in an elevator? Did you say Tower 17?"

"Yes, Woodrow, Tower 17," Sheppard said tiredly, not wanting to go into it any further.

McKay cut in, "We are inside the tower. I repeat, inside the tower on a massive elevator platform. Did you know that a good part of the upper floor goes down? It's rather amazing. Amazing and terrifying."

"Uldis, can you get a team up to the top with some rappelling equipment? I don't know how else you're going to get us out."

"Yes, sir," Uldis responded. "I'm on it."

Sheppard added, "Bring a lot of rope."

"Will do, sir. Woodrow out."

McKay looked up unhappily. "We have to go up?" he asked, pointing. "That's a long way. You know I don't do well with those things." He made hand and feet motions as if he were climbing using a harness. "And with my shoulder," he added, gripping his arm. "It just isn't a good idea."

"I'll get Uldis to bring something for you. They'll haul you up like Toto in Dorothy's basket."

"Great," McKay responded, not sounding happy.

Sheppard moved slowly around the platform. "So, were you going to tell me what this tower was for?"

"I suspect it's for launching gliders," McKay responded, moving his arm judiciously. "The Ancients were studying air currents from the tower. I found some information in the database about it. Didn't understand why that mattered. I found designs for simple gliders in another computer system. Didn't put them together until now because, how were they going to get the finished gear up to that room? The transporter couldn't handle the size of materials needed."

"That's why they created the elevator," Sheppard said softly.

"Yeah, elevator," McKay echoed. "The lower bay seemed to be set up for construction."

Sheppard frowned. "Why would they want gliders when they had jumpers?"

"I have no idea. Maybe they were for low-tech mountain societies that needed transportation. Maybe it was just for weekend fun." McKay shrugged. "You can never know for sure with those Ancients."

He had a point.

Feeling tired, Sheppard lowered himself to the platform again. He looked up as McKay tentatively sat down beside him.

Sheppard turned down his radio because the interference was annoying. McKay sniffled and pressed the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his sore arm and blinked at the floor. The bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped.

The platform, thankfully, did nothing.

"Hell of a day," McKay finally said to break the quiet.

Sheppard snorted.

"After surviving Obra, we nearly bought it in some freak elevator accident," McKay continued. "God, imagine if you hadn't gotten me freed in time? What a horrible way to go. One moment, I'm all find and dandy, the next – I'd have my arm jerked off at the root. Either that, or I manage to kill us both in free fall."

"Your arm wouldn't have been jerked off," Sheppard said, trying to sound convincing. "I got here in time. You stopped the elevator from falling, so it turned out okay. Everything is okay."

Rodney's brow furrowed as said softly, "I'm not sure the Jerons feel the same."

At the mention, Sheppard looked away as well. "Hell of a day," he mumbled.

 

PART 3: RAINING DOWN 

A few days earlier, they had traveled to Jero. The mission had started off well enough. They'd received a request for assistance from the people of Jero -- a cry for help. Their town had been inundated with a winter flood, and hundreds were left homeless. Atlantis came to the rescue.

Their city, built alongside a river, had been completely flooded. Miles and miles of fertile fields were underwater. Homes were submerged. Mud coated everything above the waterline.

The Jerons didn't want to leave their native home. They'd withstood Wraith attacks throughout the centuries and had fought hard for what they had. The flood was a freak occurrence – a combination of heavy snowpack in the mountains and frozen earth in the lowlands, followed by a warm weather system that dumped too much rain, melted too much snow.

The Atlantians were finally able to sway the leaders, and get the Jerons to consider moving to a new place, on a new planet. It would be just like home! It would be better than home.

So the databases were searched. Several possibilities were considered, but Sheppard made the final decision -- a planet culled a year earlier. There would be acres of farmland, ready for the taking. Houses and barns and a river and orchards. The previous inhabitants had been at a similar level of advancement.

Just like home.

Teyla and Ronon had warned that many people in the Pegasus Galaxy felt that a culled city had bad juju associated with it. The Jerons would not go happily.

"But, it's an excellent location," McKay had commented. "And because it's already culled, the Wraith won't be stopping by for a long time. It's like a free pass. The Jerons will have everything they need."

"I agree with what you are saying, but the Wraith culled Obra in its entirety," Teyla reminded. "This is an ill omen. The Wraith rarely would do such a thing to a civilization. The Jerons will feel that the original inhabitants were punished for some reason."

John had stated, "What happened on Obra was probably out of hunger, not retribution."

"Still," Ronon commented. "Nobody's going to want to live there."

"They've got a point," McKay admitted. "It's like those freaky houses in horror films. A whole family gets murdered, and someone else moves in and everyone's surprised that evil entities lurk around. Then some idiot goes into the basement and WHAMMO!"

Sheppard sneered at Rodney. "Come on! Nice houses? Farmland? Even freakin' river views? Everything they could want is already there. They've lost just about everything on their homeworld, and they can't stay there anymore."

McKay had nodded. Ronon and Teyla agreed with the logic, but realized it would be a tough sell.

There were further talks as the Jerons stood firm, refusing the new property. Their resolve broke when the rains continued and the river rose further. Whole hillsides sloughed away, burying their beloved city in tons of mud.

They could have stayed on their own planet and just move away from this ruined land, but they needed access to the Gate and their trading partners. They'd starve without the ability to barter – and they didn't want handouts from Atlantis.

Finally, they agreed to a compromise. It would be a temporary move. The Jerons would 'camp' at the new location until the flooding stopped, until the waters receded and their land dried out. They could return and rebuild what was lost.

And this morning, the big move occurred. Several teams from Atlantis arrived at Jero, to find the soaked people waiting with their carts and packs, with their farm animals and the little salvaged things that had made their houses into homes. They waited in the rain.

The teams from Atlantis came in as heroes, with puffed up chests and confident steps, ushering the Jerons out of the gray dampness. The people put the rain behind them as they stepped onto a new planet where the sun shone, dappling the river. The air was sweet with springtime. Dry, inviting homes were already stocked with firewood and furniture. It was warm and beautiful.

There were Ancient structures, too. The Obras had built right on top of a ruined outpost, utilizing what had been left behind by the Ancestors to support their homes.

McKay skittered from one ruin to another, eager to discover whatever he could.

The displaced people had decided that they would set up tents in the main square instead of using the existing structures. They were, after all, just camping until they could return to their homes. That plan quickly fell to the wayside as Jerons poked their noses into empty homes, just to see what they were like.

The homes were nice. The homes were empty and just waiting for someone to move in. It would be a shame to let them remain idle. Some people started staking out claims on the empty buildings.

And once a few started, the rest followed.

And soon the people from Atlantis were trying to settle disputes when so-in-so got the bigger house, and whats-his-name wanted whozit to move his donkey-animal-thing out of his yard.

How did we get stuck with this job? Sheppard had thought.

It was getting to the end of a long day. Sheppard was struggling to disentangle himself from a pair of feuding sisters who had found a bauble in one of the cottages. Both instantly coveted it. They'd handed it over to him to make the decision for them, and both were pleading their cases for far too long.

Sheppard decided it was time to leave.

The Jerons would be fine. Their town was perfect and the new inhabitants needed to settle in and figure out how to live here.

With a rueful expression, he handed the necklace to Ronon and told him to slice it in two. If he was forced to play Solomon, he was going to take a lesson or two from the guy.

Ronon had shrugged as he accepted the piece of jewelry and laid it on a rock wall. The sisters shrieked in horror as he raised his sword. And Teyla leaned closer to get a good look at it.

"John," she had said, meeting his gaze with an urgent expression. "This jewel is similar to the one I had as a child, the necklace that you found on the day we met."

Sheppard stepped closer, and felt his heart sink. He hadn't even looked at the jewelry when the sisters had turned it over to him. It was exactly like the one Teyla has recovered years ago -- the pretty little necklace with a tracking device.

His touch had activated Teyla's jewel, and he glanced at his hand, reminded that he'd recently held this new one.

"Smash it!" he ordered Ronon.

Ronon complied wordlessly, instantly shattering the piece, sending the sisters into hysterics, but Sheppard already knew it was too late.

A cry came over his radio from one of the marines, "The Gate is activating!" And then, "Wraith darts!"

Ronon and Teyla drew their weapons. Sheppard turned, expecting to find McKay where he'd last seen him -- near one of the larger town buildings. But, the scientist was gone. "McKay!" he shouted over his radio. There was no response.

Great! Great, McKay! Freakin' wander off right now!

Sheppard sent Ronon and Teyla to do what they could to protect the terrified Jerons as he sought McKay, ducking and dodging as darts screamed overhead.

Where the hell are you, McKay, Sheppard thought, hearing the culling beams searing through the air. "Rodney!" he shouted. "Rodney!"

All around, people were screaming, shouting for their loved ones and running. He could feel the rising terror, could hear it in their voices as the Jerons dashed about in the unfamiliar town, trying to find a safe place.

"Rodney!" Where the hell did he go?

And then he heard a plaintive, "HELP!"

Ronon's distinctive blaster sounded nearby, followed by the bark of Teyla's P90. The marines were adding their firepower to the effort.

People still shouted, still tried to escape.

"Rodney!" He dodged around another building, leaped over some sort of trough and ran past a barn. Nearby, a Wraith dart exploded in the sky as Ronon scored a direct hit. Wreckage rained down, whistling and burning as it fell.

"Sheppard! Help!" McKay called again.

Around the barn, and Sheppard finally spotted him. McKay was wedged under an archway, some old ruin of an Ancient building, and was otherwise entirely exposed in an open pasture.

"Sheppard!" he shouted again when he finally spotted John, and he grinned a little. The expression fell as another dart sped overhead. "I can't get out of here. I'm trapped!"

With a shake of his head, Sheppard shouted, "Let me get into better position," Sheppard shouted. "I'll cover you."

He dashed into the open, only to come to a rapid halt when McKay shouted a frantic, "Stop! Culling beam!"

John stumbled backward, almost falling as the beam sliced just in front of him, cutting so close he swore he could feel it on his skin. His vision was swallowed up with the strange shimmering colors. The uncanny bolt of light continued onward, and he looked up, meeting McKay's terrified glance.

A wave of relief seemed to come over McKay as he realized Sheppard was still standing, and he muttered a quiet, "Thank God."

"Run!" Sheppard shouted, lifting his P90.

And McKay ran, ducking his head, clutching his own weapon tightly as he dashed across the open space.

Sheppard fired, keeping another dart at bay as McKay rushed past him. He kept on it as the ship wheeled around to come back at him, and was grateful when McKay joined him in the onslaught, firing into the flying object for all they were worth.

The dart erupted in a fireball as it soared over them. Parts flew from the ship, crashing down around them. They ducked as it twisted, losing altitude until it disappeared beyond the roofs of the town, and the ground shook when the craft blasted into the ground.

"Come on!" Sheppard shouted, and they ran, following the path that he'd just covered, back to the row of houses.

There were fewer people now, and Sheppard prayed that the Jerons had found hiding places. And then, just as they reached the others, the darts were gone, disappearing back through the Gate, leaving Sheppard breathless.

Gone. Apparently, the Wraith had had enough.

He smiled a little as he looked from Ronon to Teyla, and then met Rodney's eyes. Yeah!

And it was quiet – no darts screeching, no gunfire, no screaming for help. Sheppard quickly radioed his people, taking a role call. Everyone was still present.

In all, they'd brought down four darts. Pretty impressive. The Wraith had been soundly whipped! Later, he learned that the departing darts had taken a third of the Jerons with them.

Mostly-full carts were left beside scattered baskets and baggage. Pack animals milled around without owners. Large boxes sat near recently reclaimed houses. Children hid, peeping cautiously from windows. Adults ran about, their arms loose at their sides, calling out names, nearly running into each other in their desperation.

Gone. People were just gone.

And then it was quiet again – only the soft wailing of those that had lost, and the murmuring assurances of those that tried to comfort.

The Jerons left Obra immediately, taking their already packed possessions with them. They sought out acquaintances on other planets, trading partners, who might take them in. They had to split up. They might make it home someday. Some might never see each other again.

The teams from Atlantis helped them as much as they were able, but the Jerons just wanted to leave. Their eyes were empty and their faces bleak as they stepped through the event horizon again, hoping for better luck away from this cursed town.

Even the Ancient ruins proved worthless. Just one more reason to put this day behind them.

It was a hell of a day -- one crap-load of a day.

 

PART 4: UP

Sheppard sat on that elevator platform, stuck mid-way down the tower, staring at the wall. 

If he hadn't convinced the Jerons that the planet was safe, if he hadn't rung the dinner gong, the displaced people wouldn't be at the mercy of the Wraith now, wouldn't be split up.

If Atlantis had just left them alone as they'd originally wished, the Jerons would be cold, wet and muddy, but alive.

How many times had this happened already? How many times had they tried to help, and only ended up hurting?

Beside him, McKay sniffled, drawing his sleeve to his nose again. Sheppard turned, realizing that Rodney was watching him.

"I hate nosebleeds," McKay commented.

Sheppard grunted in response as he turned away.

Too many people had died because of their interference. It wasn't as if they'd tried to cause harm to anyone, but why did it have to turn out so badly?

"My arm still hurts," McKay continued, still watching him.. "I think I dislocated it." He raised and lowered the shoulder a few more times.

"Huh," was Sheppard's response.

"Have you ever seen 'Kill Bill'? Did you see what happened when anyone got a body part hacked off?"

Fountains of blood, Sheppard thought, realizing why that particular image had come to him earlier.

"There were fountains of blood spurting out," McKay said. "Pretty cool movie."

It was.

"Ninja women make everything better," McKay added with a grin.

Rodney was right.

"Ninjas, fast cars, dinosaurs and zombies make good movies," McKay went on. 

True.

"I don't know about you, but I could really use a good movie. I hope we get some with the next shipment -- maybe 'Shaun of the Dead' or something like that. Did you hear that someone is making a movie called 'Pride and Prejudice and Zombies'? Maybe it's just a book. But it should be a movie."

Sheppard looked up sharply at McKay, and seriously wondered where McKay got his information.

"There's another book coming out called 'Pride and Predator'."

"No way in hell," Sheppard mumbled.

"It's true!"

"It's not."

"It is so true. And, okay, I don't know anything more than the titles, but why'd it take so damn long for them to finally make chick lit interesting, huh?" He turned his head slightly toward Sheppard. "I mean, who reads that hoity-toity Jane Austen stuff? Women seem to like it, but…"

"I don't think Teyla would," Sheppard commented.

McKay let out a long sigh. "Jennifer is always talking about how she has this tradition with these old friends of hers. Whenever they get together, they all gather 'round and watch 'Pride and Prejudice'. It's like 20 hours long or something, and they spend the whole time swooning over some guy named Darcy." His voice rose with an incredulous tone. 

Rodney kept talking, "There was this girl named Darcy in my elementary school." He lowered his voice, saying, "She had 'issues'. She used to eat paste."

Sheppard shrugged. "I ate paste."

"Well, who hasn't?" McKay stated. "Darcy ate a LOT of paste. If you wanted any chance of finishing an art project, you had to hide that stuff like it was gold, otherwise Paste-y McSticky would find it and go to town. She spread it on bread! Some of my best work never saw the light of day because of her." He sniffled again. "Wasted. So much good artwork wasted."

Sheppard chuckled a little.

"Maybe this Zombies version of Austen will be something I can sit through. It's gotta spice things up the whole boring story a bit, don't you think? I mean, the lady-folk will all be sitting around, discussing dresses or hats and suddenly WHAM… zombies. The undead come crashing through the garden window and someone gets their face eaten."

"Zombie Darcy would be interesting," Sheppard said thoughtfully.

"Exactly! And Zombie Darcy would be so totally NOT HOT!" McKay shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and looking pleased. "Who's sexy with rotting flesh?"

Sheppard laughed a little. "It really isn't a good look for anyone."

McKay sighed again, and stretched his legs out.

"But we're getting both movies as soon as they're out," Sheppard proclaimed. "I mean as long as they're real."

"Definitely," McKay responded. "I just need something new," he said. He screwed up his face a moment as he considered his next comment.

Sheppard said nothing, waiting him out.

Finally, McKay stated, "That's why I was up there." He gestured upward, indicated the room above them. "I needed something to do. I couldn't stand to be in my room tonight, doing nothing. I thought it would be nice to be up there, just looking at the stars. I've always loved the stars."

Sheppard turned toward McKay again, watching him in profile. He hadn't noticed it before, but Rodney looked tired – dead tired.

"I know just about everything about them, the stars," Rodney continued in a quiet voice. "There's something comforting about that."

Sheppard could understand that.

The scientist leaned back, resting his head against the column. "I just wish," he paused a moment before continuing. "I just wish that I could do something that worked out perfectly." He smiled a little at that word. "I'm good," he said. "I'm really, really good. My intelligence is, well, light-years ahead of nearly everyone in the galaxy." He gestured as he spoke, and glanced to Sheppard. "I'm just stating facts, and not bragging or anything."

"God forbid," Sheppard deadpanned.

"It's just that… It seems ages since I did anything that was a total success." And he let out a long sigh as he stared across the little room. "People die…because of my ideas." His voice trailed off, but then became stronger as he stated, "I just wanted to figure out this room. I couldn't even do that right."

"Well," Sheppard tried. "You did figure it out."

"And as usual, something went horribly wrong. We could have fallen to our deaths, and now we're stuck in this little room!" Rodney blinked and said quietly, "The walls aren't moving closer, are they?" He cringed closer to the pillar.

"The walls are not moving," Sheppard reassured. "We're not moving."

"Because if I look at the walls just right, they seem to be closing in," McKay said, his voice sounding small.

"Do you still have the data on those gliders?"

McKay frowned at the question. "Obviously," he said.

"Do you think the plans would work?" Sheppard asked. He nodded upward. "If we can get this elevator working again…"

"Of course, I can get the elevator working!" McKay responded.

"Once you got that, do you think we can launch a glider or two from up there?"

"It might be foolhardy, but…" McKay's eyes darted as his mind worked. "…it certainly seems possible." He leaned forward, his hands moving. "The designs were very … yes. Yes, we probably could. And I've had some pretty impressive theories about how to improve them."

Rodney grinned, and some of the weariness seemed to leave him. He snapped his fingers. "And I know just where to get the materials. There was this storeroom not far from the base of this tower. I bet everything we need is right there." He looked smug. "It's totally possible."

"Great," Sheppard responded. "Once we get out of here, we can start planning." 

And Rodney's eyes narrowed as his brain worked. "Have you ever flown a glider?" the scientist asked.

Sheppard felt some of his own exhaustion lessen at the idea of flying – just gilding on the breeze. In his career, he'd flown just about everything imaginable and a few things that were unimaginable – ultra-lights, an old Jenny, a Cessna, a Harrier Jump Jet, F-15s, Blackhawks, space battleships and even a freakin' a moon.

Gliders were different animals. There was a peacefulness to them. One had to be constantly aware of the air currents, to be quiet and calm. One had to trust in lift. "I've flown a few," Sheppard stated.

McKay bit his lip. "It's not dangerous, is it? Because, well…" he fluttered a hand. "I have this fear of heights thing."

"Heights aren't a problem, Rodney," Sheppard said. "Going up isn't what's going to kill you."

"It's the 'down' that I worry about," Rodney admitted.

Sheppard went on, "It'll be fine. You design the gliders, and I'll fly 'em. I'll take you up. It'll be cool."

"Yeah, really cool," McKay said, smiling.

"Sir!" A voice cut in, called from above. "Sir? Are you down there? We're here to help."

Sheppard craned his head. Uldis Woodrow leaned over the hole at the top of the shaft, little more than a silhouette.

"We're here, Sergeant," John shouted in return.

"Sheppard?" That was Ronon's voice. His outline was impossible to confuse with anyone else. What was he doing up at this hour? Uldis wouldn't have awakened him. "You okay?" the big man asked. The smaller shape that joined them was, undoubtedly, Teyla.

"We're okay," Sheppard yelled back.

"I hurt my arm!" McKay countered.

"Rodney?" Teyla called, sounding anxious at this news.

"He'll be fine," Sheppard assured, and gave McKay a little punch in the 'injured' arm. Rodney flinched and glared at him.

"And my nose," Rodney added, pointing to his no-longer-bleeding nose. "I banged it pretty hard on the floor."

There was a pause, and Sheppard could picture Teyla's smile as she called back, "I am sorry to hear about your nose, Rodney."

"You and me both," Rodney replied, then quietly, probably because he realized the ridiculous of it, he added, "Tore my sleeve off, too." And he touched the ruined fabric.

"How far down are you?" Ronon questioned from above.

"You're going to have to figure that one out," Sheppard replied. "Let's start with 'a long long way down'."

"Use a Life Sign Detector," McKay commented. "You should be able to figure distance from that."

"Right," Sgt. Woodrow replied, and turned way from the hole, probably to locate someone in his group that had the gene and the necessary device.

"We'll get you lifted out," Ronon assured, and his shape disappeared from above, probably to confer with the rest of the rescue team. Teyla's silhouette remained.

"That marine's name really is Uldis?" McKay questioned quietly. "What kind of name is that?"

"I have an uncle named Uldis," Sheppard responded.

McKay frowned as if he wanted to contest this fact, but he looked up, and asked Sheppard, "Why does 'fridge' have a D in it?"

And Sheppard answered in a serious tone, "I have no idea."

McKay continued to look upward as Sheppard watched him.

"They'll get us out," Sheppard assured.

"Yeah," Rodney responded, clenching his hands nervously at his sides. "It really is a long long way up, isn't it?"

"About these gliders…" Sheppard started.

THE END


End file.
